


Thantophobia

by Stardustpanda



Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: Depression, Golden Gate Bridge, M/M, Self Harm, suicida thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 09:52:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3724459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stardustpanda/pseuds/Stardustpanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thantophobia- the fear of losing someone you love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thantophobia

**Author's Note:**

> Most people see the Golden Gate Bridge as a beautiful work of art.
> 
> No one knows the real reason why Castiel wants to go so bad.

The lighter's a trigger. I load my gun and swallow the bullets. Straight to my lungs. With every drag and hit I take, my thoughtless mind will come awake. No more demons laughing or weapons calling. Just coughing and heaving and careless flying. I guess it's living, I guess I'm dying. And if I'm not, I'm surely trying.

 

I found a way out of the pain. Perfect place. If I were to die, I want it my way. I will have it my way. The bridge is miles upon miles away. It took months worth of saving. Who would have thought someone would plan their death? Strange. I'm not even scared. Pain doesn't affect me anymore. 

 

I got the money.

 

I left the ragged clothing.

 

My dignity.

 

My state.

 

My home.

 

Soon, my life.

 

I found a train to San Francisco. Traveling was always something I enjoyed in this cruel world. 

 

I bought my ticket.

 

I boarded the train.

 

No clothes, no memories, just enough cash to make it to the perfect spot.

 

I sat down. I stared out the window.  
This will be the last state I ever visit.

 

Night from a railroad car window is a great, dark, soft thing, broken across with slashes of light. 

 

I will try my damn best to enjoy my last 24 hours.

 

Minutes turned into hours as the hours turned into a day.

 

I heard the ding.

 

I awoke.

 

I got off.

 

Rented a car.

 

I drove until I got there. No stops. Only a great weight has been lifted off my shoulders, knowing it will finally all end. No more pain. No more having to resort to narcotic pills and strange things all rolled into one blunt. No more crying myself to sleep. No more searching for abandoned ally's to sleep in. No more fucking myself up. No more.

 

I drove for half an hour before I was blinded by bright lights in the early evening of the bridge. I found the closest parking spot.

 

I walked with the biggest smile I've worn in a long time. 

 

Then I was there.

 

I approached the viewing sidewalk lane.

 

And looked over.

 

The wind. The gentle sway of my body as I lean across the rails. Escape. The thought of permanent peace. I lift a leg. I was going to fall. Fall from hell? No, that didn't sound right. This is a rising: a rising from this hell to heaven. Deep breath. Open your eyes. Look up at the evening sky painted with purples and pinks and oranges, for this will be the last time you will see it. Now close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Now open your eyes. Now look down. Don't look back up. Don't look back up at the place you will never miss. Now close your eyes one more time. Jump.

 

I could've ended it. My pain, my suffering, my pitiful excuse of a life. I'm just a waste of oxygen. I wanted to end it. No one cared. No one cares, and no one will ever care. This was my chance. But when these strong hands grasped the back of my shirt, pulling with such fortitude, forcing me to plummet backwards into the concrete of the side walk, I made a speculation I never thought would occur. 

 

Someone cared.

 

There were 3 young gentlemen huddled around me. I closed my eyes. Breathe Castiel, breathe. One two three. Calm your nerves, even out your breath. Open your eyes. My vision was blurry, but I could tell I was in someone's lap. There were arms wrapped around my back. My vision was so blurry. Did the sudden impact mess up my eyes? No, my cheeks are wet. I'm crying. Im crying harder than I've ever cried in front of a human being in my entire life. Why was I crying? Was I given a second chance by whatever God is out there? No. I don't want a second chance. The crying exhausted me. I couldn't keep my eyes to remain open. I passed out.

 

-

 

I moaned from the tapping sun-light against my face, wondered how long I'd been sleeping. I blinked, shut my eyes, blinked again. I yawned, managed to fully open both eyes. Where was I?

 

I sat up.

 

Ouch.

 

My back felt like I was tied to a car and it had dragged me across the road for miles. My legs made me feel crippled. Were they broken? I couldn't tell.

 

I still didn't know where I was.

 

My memories came in small shattered fragments; puzzle pieces. I couldn't remember what happened. 

 

I sat up. Then it all came crashing down on me. As if I was in the ocean and a wave had crashed down on me; drowning me into an oblivion. I went from not remembering my name to remembering my last thought before I blacked out.

 

But I don't remember coming here. Where was I? Who pulled me off that railing? My back hurts. I need water. 

 

I would stand up to find some, but my legs were not functioning. I grunted while laying back down. 

 

Someone heard me.

 

The door slowly creaked open as a man tip toed in.

 

"You awake?" 

 

I studied him from head to toe.

 

His hair was quite messy.

 

He had a scruffy 5' o clock shadow.

 

He wore a black t-shirt with plaid pants.

 

He was tan and muscular.

 

In his hands was a much needed glass of water.

 

But the one thing that caught my attention the most were his eyes. 

 

They were enthralling, sparkling kaleidoscopes of color. They were the most brightest of greens; green of the apples your mom would give you to cut to put into a pie. Freshly cut grass you would lie down under the stars with someone on. They were deep, yet sparkled and shimmered like the water on a sunny day. They were just plain fascinating.

 

"Here, drink this. It's been days." He handed me the glass of water and I held out a shaky hand to accept it. He sat down on the tail end of the bed as I gulped down all the water in practically one sip.

 

Wait.

 

Days.

 

I heard the word days.

 

Not singular, day, but instead plural days.

 

I set the glass on the bedside table.

 

"How long did you say I was out for?"

 

"A few days. 3, to be exact." He answered.

 

The air in the small room was thick with an awkward aoura. What do you say to someone who just stopped you from killing yourself? And what does someone say to someone who was about to end their own life?

 

Confusion. I had no clue what to say. I didn't want to say thank you. I wanted to die, and he ruined it. I planned this for months, and now I'm alive, only a bit scratched up because of a stranger stopping me.

 

"Why were you about to jump?" He looked at me with complete seriousness. His pupils were small, and he looked stressed with the bags under his eyes. Why was he concerned? I've never met him in my life.

 

And damn, he was straight up candid.

 

I looked down at my hands that were a twisted mess of conjoined fingers.

 

"Why does it concern you?" If he was gonna be straight forward, so was I.

 

"Because I just saved your life." He looked completely serious. As if I wanted to be saved. I didn't respond. He sighed. "Okay, never mind. What's your name?"

 

"My mommy told me not to talk to strangers." I said in a childish voice. He didn't look amused.

 

I sighed. "Castiel." 

 

"I'm Dean." 

 

Dean. That name sounded familiar. Too familiar.

 

Then it hit me. Memories punched me in the gut with such a force that I sat in a shock. These recollections were chain locked in a chest in a dusty corner in the back of my mind. Thoughts I never wanted to break loose. But they all started to slither their way out through the key hole.

 

This was Dean Winchester.

 

My eyes widened more than humanly possible. This was Dean. A man I only knew for two days that helped me more than my own siblings.

 

"Dean Winchester?" It was barely a whisper. He looked nothing like when I first met him.

 

We were in the same boat; had no one who actually loved us, ran away, living on the streets for weeks, resorting to things that gave us bliss in a dark ally with nothing but our screwed up minds. We had deep conversations. I spoke about things o him that have never left my mouth while speaking to someone else. A man who became my first friend and convinced me to go back home. He explained how it's better to live in a house with people who don't care than living in no house at all.

 

When I came home no one even noticed I left.

 

I could hardly breathe. A smile was threatening to crack upon my lips, but I was still pissed about him stopping me.

 

"Hello, Dean." The smile appeared.

 

He smiled as well. "So you remember me?" He let out a chuckle and clapped my back, causing me to wince.

 

"Oh my gosh, sorry dude! But how long has it been? How have you been? You need to tell me about your family! Wh-" I cut him off by holding up my hand. This was great, I get to see Dean again. A temporary friend who never bothered to contact me again. 

 

"Why?" Was all I said.

 

"Why what?" Again with him looking all confused. He knew what I meant. He had the same gruesome thoughts as me, about how we will end our fucked up lives.

 

"Why did you stop me? You knew the day we met how badly I wanted- needed to die. That was my chance, and you ruined it! Why, Dean?" I was beginning to yell, but my dried throat only let my voice get so loud.

 

"Do you honestly think I'd let my first friend die?" I guess I was his first friend as well. 

 

I was lost.

 

"Why do you care what I do? I met you, you gave me drugs, you made me go home. That's it. Why did you stop me from doing this?" I wanted to yell, scream, break something. But I could only remain calm.

 

"Like I said, Castiel. I can't let my first friend kill themselves. That's it." He looked me in the eyes and I stared into his. Were they always this green? I have a new favorite color.

 

I was quiet.

 

The room was soaked in a silence I didn't like. At least a minute has passed by before either of us said something.

 

"My back hurts." 

 

"Yeah, I would've guessed. You fell pretty hard. Do you want some pain killer for it? I could patch you up?" He kept trying to help me.

 

I didn't want help.

 

"No thanks, I should probably just sleep it off. Thanks for the offer, though." I laid down.

 

He got up.

 

He walked out. 

 

He closed the door.

 

I was by myself.

 

I fell asleep.

 

-

 

I was asleep for two more days.

 

I was starving.

 

I was weak, exhausted, just mentally worn out. I laid back down, but I couldn't fall back asleep. I sat up and looked at the clock on the bedside table. 5:56. Dean must have been making dinner; there were mouth watering aromas invading my nostrils, making my stomach growl. 

 

I sat up, the action itself making my whole body crack. My back wasn't as sore, and I could actually move my legs.

 

I got up and walked over to the door. Once I was out of the room, I studied the house. I do that, just take note of things. The color of walls, what station is on tv, the framed photos on the wall. By the size of it, Dean lived in an apartment. I turned the corner, and Dean was adding spices to a pan while mixing the other ingredients with a spatula.

 

"Good Morning, sunshine." Dean bellowed. I rolled my eyes.

 

"What are you cooking? It smells very appetizing." My stomach growled again. 

 

Dean laughed.

 

He had some teeth that came to a rounded point.

 

His smile looked genuine.

 

He has small ears.

 

His eyes crinkle and squint when he smiles.

 

His laugh put me at some sort of calm.

 

"Stuffed peppers. They're quite delectable. And fattening. I'm making you one, you look like you've never eaten a whole meal since the last time I've seen you." He was right. Some snacks here and there, but never a whole meal. After I left home permanently, there would be some days where I wouldn't eat at all. I sat down at his dining table while he set out some silverware for me and him. He walked back to the kitchen.

 

"So how's it been?" He questioned. "Did you go back to your parents like I told you to?" He came back with our food. I devoured it all while trying to answer his curious questions.

 

"Yeah, I did. They didn't even notice I left." I said through a mouthful of food.

 

"Oh." He said, shoveling a forkful into his mouth. "Why are you in San Francisco?" 

 

I was done with my food when he asked that question, and I didn't know how to answer him. I traveled to here from states away just to jump off a bridge? No.

 

"I like California." 

 

Dean smiled.

 

"So do I."

 

He offered for me to watch tv with him. We were watching some show about some murderer, and someone was trying to find him. It was her job.   
I could never do that as my occupation.

 

"What's this show called?" I asked. His couch was very comfortable. I never wanted to get up.

 

"It's called Castle. It's my favorite show."

 

Note #10: he likes crime scene shows.

 

I spent more time watching him than the tv show itself. This was too ironic. 

 

Who would have thought that we both would have come to California all the way from Florida? 

 

Who would have known he would walk the Golden Gate Bridge the same time and day I decided to jump off? Was I really being given a second chance?

 

I was still baffled.

 

I thought I couldn't fall asleep again. 

 

But this couch was so comfortable. 

 

And Dean's voice was so deep and soothing 

 

And the cold ac air felt so good on my skin 

 

And the soft rug felt so good under my feet 

 

And the tv was so quiet 

 

And my eyes were beginning to close.

 

And I fell asleep.

 

-

 

I woke up to complete warmth. It felt like sun shine and soft kittens and I haven't felt this warm since a child. I opened my eyes and realized why.

 

I was lying down completely on top of Dean, with a large fleece blanket wrapped around the both of us.

 

Forget the blanket.

 

I was lying down on top of Dean.

 

I haven't been able to shower or brush my teeth in weeks and my clothes were so dirty and he was fast asleep under me, seeing through all of it.

 

I realized I've been here for way to long. I haven't thought about this for almost the whole week I was here for. I need to leave. Should I go back to the bridge? Should I live on the streets again? Find someone to give me a couple pills? I began to shuffle off of Dean, but when he grabbed my wrist I stopped.

 

"Where are you going?" His voice was so husky and that in itself wanted to make me fall back asleep. He sat up, still refusing to let go of my wrist.

 

I had to lie.

 

"I'm just going back home." I replied.

 

"No you're not." I was confused. He wanted me to stay?

 

"But, um , I have a dog and I need to fee-"

 

"No you don't. I know you don't have a home, and I also know you don't have a dog."

 

I hung my head. He saw right through my half assed lies. I didn't know what to say. I just sat on the couch, squeezed my eyes shut, and never removed my frail wrist from his arm.

 

"I want you to stay here." 

 

That sentence came out of nowhere. I almost asked him to repeat it, even though I know I heard him perfectly crystal clear.

 

I opened my eyes and turned my head to face him. His lips were in a firm line and his eyes were serious and he still had purple bags and I knew by his face he actually, sincerely wanted me to stay.

 

"But, I hardly know you. You hardly know me. I met you once years ago and I never even remembered you until a couple days ago when you said your name an-"

 

"Stay." He cut me off. I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what I was feeling. I've never had someone even care about me in the slightest and this guy I hardly know is telling me to live in his house and I don't know what to do.

 

"I only knew you for two days, but I know enough about you. I can't have you pull something like that again. Stay here, at least until you can get on your own feet. Weather that be weeks or months, just stay here. I don't mind." 

 

He actually wants me to stay.

 

I closed my eyes.

 

Breathe.

 

Open your eyes.

 

"Okay."

 

I was given a second chance.


End file.
